


the footsteps following after you

by brights (orphan_account)



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/brights
Summary: The inner machinations of the mind can be quite scary, and Handsome Jack knows this all too well.





	the footsteps following after you

**Author's Note:**

> * it's been quite a while since i've written anything, apologies for being rusty  
> * just a warning, this fic is very violent, and also a slight au setting, please read the tags!

The deep, dark circles underneath his eyes have manifested themselves for quite a while now, and looking at the clock, it’s only half past seven in the evening, and that’s no good, he thinks to himself. This is a pretty big project, and though he has many different people that could construct this design, he knows that this is something that  _ he  _ has to do. If he doesn’t, then he’s going to drive himself mad, making sure that every detail is to his liking and is going to be worth it in the end.

 

Is it simply because he wants this thing to be completely his?  _ Absolutely _ .

 

On second thought, nevermind all of that. He  _ didn’t  _ have anyone to help him at all, not anymore. Not ever since his beautiful empire crumbled right before his eyes because of a filthy ex-Hyperion employee that now owned Atlas and may as well be considered a bandit himself. Oh, how Jack wanted to grip his pretty little neck and dig his thumbs right into his throat. He inhales sharply at the thought and allows himself the mental image, and it makes him smile just a bit, and he thinks of it as a small victory, because he can’t remember the last time that he was able to smile as he used to. 

 

He can remember the way that he felt when he was just a simple underling, working under Tassiter, and that wasn’t the first time that he’d ever felt bloodlust like that. His second wife, screaming and crying as Jack delt her blow after blow with his fist for even  _ suggesting  _ that he lock Angel away, was the first, and he made sure to leave a very bloody mess for her parents when they found her eventually.  

 

And the next time was Tassiter himself, who found himself being strangled, with the light from the crack on Elpis serving as a backdrop. That was one of Jack’s fondest memories, as well.  _ “A bit romantic, wouldn’t you say?”  _ he had asked Harold on that night, and the old man simply went limp underneath him, no other words spoken until someone called to check on him.

 

However, the person that this was for, Jack isn’t quite sure that he’s going to be ready for this kind of treatment, but oh, well. This is the just desserts for crossing him back then, and oh, the revenge would be so very sweet, and Jack would emerge victorious. The ideal situation would wind up with that little  _ traitor  _ lying in a pool of his own blood. The best part about it all, the part that Jack was so enamored with, was that he would never see it coming. Jack has been letting all of his thoughts, emotions, marinate for years. 

 

And he can see all of the blood on his hands as he looks at them, his computer monitor giving an eerie glow to them, and he knows that it’s not real, but he can’t help but think of  _ that  _ incident. How long did he wait before he did that? Now, he wondered if he had done the right thing. He was all alone, aside from the other person in the house, and he didn’t even really consider him another person.

 

“Jack…?”

 

A slight turn of the head to indicate that he is, indeed, paying attention to the voice that’s called out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts, and probably for the best. The voice of the traitor that went out of his way to bring his empire down, and here they both were now, Rhys being  _ very  _ blissfully unaware of the danger that he was in at this point. Jack had let it manifest within him for years and years, and now things were coming to a head, and the time to act was going to be soon. 

 

An echo, this time seemingly concerned, “Jack? You okay?” He tilts his head slightly, and he takes a few steps and reaches out a bit, before pulling his hand back. Ah, yes, how could Jack have forgotten? They were apparently lovers, or that’s what Rhys had called it. Honestly, the older man could care less anymore. The most that Jack could say about the situation was that if Rhys fell off the face of the Earth, it would be unacceptable, because he needed his revenge. If he didn’t kill Rhys, then he would kill whoever it was that killed him. An eye for an eye, as they say, and to Jack, Helios was like a child, so now Rhys was going to have to be eliminated. 

 

_ It’s fine, John, kill him, just like you killed me, _ Tassiter’s voice screams in his head, and Jack blinks hard.

 

“Ah, yeah, kid, I’m fine,” is the dry reply that comes from him, and Rhys looks a bit saddened, but that’s not to be helped. But Jack figures that he could at least give the kid more than just a few words. “Just working pretty hard, you know?” There’s a certain venom behind his words, but it’s the type that Rhys can’t see for himself, not yet. 

 

Rhys doesn’t take another step toward him like Jack was hoping that he would. The thoughts rush right into the man’s head, and his heterochromatic eyes seem to light up with a fire that Rhys hasn’t seen in years, and it’s a bit scary for the younger man, who’s own eyes widen. Whatever was going in in Jack’s mind was something that Rhys really didn’t think that he actually wanted to know about. 

 

Jack doesn’t just want to  _ kill  _ Rhys, that would be letting him off easy. He wants to absolutely  _ break  _ him. He wants to make sure that that filthy traitor would feel the pain that he made him feel. He’s not any better than a  _ bandit _ , not at all, Jack thinks, and he stands up, the cracking sounds making it very apparent that he’s not moved much, if at all, all day. And normally, he would joke to himself that he must have been getting old, but he’s not in the mood - for any of this, if he’s being honest with himself. 

 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Rhys says, and he’s got all of the motions right, Jack thinks, because the younger man seems to be a bit nervous. Just the way that it should be, and Jack almost wants to let himself walk over to Rhys and punch him right in the mouth, just to give him a taste of what’s to come, but he refrains, because the time would come soon enough. “Just wanted to make sure you were still alive, ya know?” Rhys chuckles, awkward, beginning to back away from Jack. 

 

“I’m going to be heading out with Vaughn now, okay? I might not be back tonight.”

 

Jack’s just staring at him, and it’s probably one of the most unsettling things that Rhys has ever seen in his life. He tries to finish up the one-sided conversation as best as he can, “I mean, I might get lucky with one of the ladies, you know what I mean?” 

 

A small snort from Jack, and Rhys backs completely out of the room and Jack knows that after he steps out of his line of vision that the scrawny boy has bolted down the stairs and right out the door. Getting lucky, huh?  _ Good _ , Jack thinks, and he walks away from his computer and sits on the edge of his bed, then releases a sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath for some reason. 

 

_ Are you going to kill him?  _ Again, Jack’s eyes are on his hands, and his eyes widen as it seems that there is more blood now than there ever was before. Even on his chest, clothes, everywhere. There was nothing but red in his vision now, and before he has a chance to wonder why in the world his head is spinning, he passes out.

 

It’s not until about an hour later that Jack wakes up and realizes that Rhys really did leave the house, because he didn’t hear any movement from him at all downstairs, as usual. For the longest time now, he’d realized that the two of them basically lived on opposite floors of the house. Jack was upstairs, and Rhys was downstairs. The only space that they shared was the kitchen, and even that was rare.

 

“Huh, guess I’m all by myself,” he says aloud, and he feels terrible, as if something is missing. He already knows that he’s lonely, and he’s going to murder the only other person in the world that still gives a shit about him - and that’s only if Rhys actually  _ does  _ still care. And the more that he mulls it over, the more that he thinks that just maybe, Rhys was only saying that to poke fun at him, maybe see what kind of reaction he could get from him. The semi-tired, ticked off stare probably wasn’t what he wanted, but hey, what could he do now?

 

He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen, when he hears something jump slightly, startled, and he looks over at Rhys, who’s in his pinstripe pajamas, curled up on the couch, reading some new tech magazine with the television on and at a low volume. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, and he can just  _ feel  _ that he looks like shit at this point, because Rhys looks concerned  _ again _ .

 

“Hey?” Rhys replies, “Um, you know, my plans got cancelled so I’m just kind of sitting here.”  _ A likely story _ , Jack thinks, and he walks over to the couch and sits down on the opposite end, his arms crossed. The tension in the air is so thick that Jack thinks that he just might choke, and that’s not something that he really wants, but that’s just the way that it is for now. His eyes travel over to Rhys, who’s doing his best to be occupied with whatever was on TV, but Jack could see his eyes flicking back and forth between him and the television. 

 

“They got cancelled that quickly? Vaughn never cancels on you,” Jack says, and his voice comes out a bit too calm. And to make Rhys really start thinking, he makes a jab at him. “I guess you won’t be getting laid tonight, then.”

 

_ Kill him, John, you are a man, aren’t you?  _

 

Rhys chuckles, and the tension somehow breaks. “I guess not, but that’s fine by me, Jack. I wouldn’t fuck anyone else anyway.” And Jack wonders if he should stroke his own ego now, but he refrains. The statement is somehow comforting to him, and the older man reaches over and grips Rhys’s shoulder softly. 

 

“I’d hope not.” Something inside of him is cracking, and he knows it, and he’s not sure of what it is, either. He has to do something now, otherwise Rhys really will leave him. Damn the blueprint and the design, he’s taking action now, he can’t wait anymore. He squeezes Rhys’s shoulder hard enough to make the younger man yelp, and then he goes in and punches him square in the jaw.

 

Rhys looks hurt, then scared, and Jack lunges at him, all while Rhys begins running, and just in Jack’s favor and Rhys’s dismay, he trips and lands face first on the ground, and Jack is right on top of him, fist crashing into the back of his head over and over again. Rhys is crying now, screaming for Jack to stop, and for the first time in years, Jack feels like he’s on cloud nine. It’s been so long since he landed a nice punch to someone’s head.

 

He stands now and flips Rhys onto his back and kicks him repeatedly, laughing at the younger man’s suffering, until Rhys opens his mouth, and between his groans of pain he can hear the traces of those three words, and the thing that’s been breaking inside of Jack has just been broken, and he finally realizes that it was his heart. It’s far too late to go back now, Jack thinks, and he can feel the tears stinging his eyes as he pulls the Hyperion-brand pistol from his hiding place, right on top of a cabinet. 

 

“Rhysie, I’m sorry, but this is just the way that it has to be,” Jack says, and there’s a certain quiet about the room, something strange. Jack can see the ghosts of his past now, and he’s certain that they want him dead, the blood on his hands is all too apparent to him now, the screams and cries of his lovers in the past, and all of the crimes that he committed… And the former CEO breathes out as he finally pulls the trigger again, and this time, he tells himself, it would be the very last time, as he places the barrel in his own mouth, and the last thing that he hears before he pulls the trigger is a familiar voice telling him to stop.

 

_ It’s too late for that, Angel. _


End file.
